67

It happened in the span of a heartbeat — one misplaced step, one sharp intake of breath, and the world seemed to tilt.

Ellie had been descending the grand staircase, her phone in hand, humming absentmindedly to the playlist Liam had made for the baby. The villa was peaceful that afternoon — sunlight streaming through the glass panels, Lea in her studio reviewing scripts, and Rafael in the study on a call with the board.

She was seven months pregnant, the swell of her belly a reminder of how far she'd come and how fragile everything still was. Her slippers slid against the polished wood, and suddenly, gravity pulled her downward.

The sound of her body hitting the steps was dull, followed by a sharp cry that tore through the silence.

"Dad!" she screamed, voice trembling. "Mom!"

Pain radiated through her abdomen — a deep, twisting ache that made her vision blur. When she looked down, she saw it: a red stain spreading fast across her pale maternity dress. Her fingers shook violently as she tried to steady herself, clutching the banister, but her knees gave out and she crumpled at the foot of the stairs.

"Dad!" she cried again, louder this time, voice breaking. "Mom! Please!"

Rafael was the first to reach her.

He was mid-conference call when the scream came, his instincts kicking in before his brain caught up. The sound of his daughter's voice — that raw, terrified cry — made his blood run cold.

He dropped the phone, sprinting out of his office. "Ellie!"

Lea appeared from the hallway seconds later, barefoot, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears. "What happened?"

Rafael was already kneeling beside Ellie, his hands shaking as he reached for her face. "Sweetheart, hey, look at me. What happened?"

Ellie gasped, voice trembling. "I—I slipped, Dad. I slipped and—" She choked on the next words, tears blurring her sight. "There's blood—oh God, there's blood—"

Lea's breath caught when she saw it. For a second, the world stopped moving.

"Rafael—" she managed, voice breaking. "Call Alex. Now."

Rafael's training as a CEO — years of crisis management, of keeping control in chaos — collapsed in that instant. His composure cracked. He fumbled for his phone but his fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

"Alex!" he barked finally when the intercom connected. "Car. Now. Emergency bag, hospital — now!"

Lea was already down on the floor, cradling Ellie's face, brushing tears from her cheeks. "Breathe, anak. Don't move too much. It's going to be alright, okay? Just look at me."

Ellie's sobs came in short gasps. "It hurts, Mom... it hurts so much..."

Lea forced a steady tone despite the fear gripping her chest. "I know, sweetheart. I know. Just keep breathing. You're going to be okay. Your baby's going to be okay."

"Dad..." Ellie's trembling hand reached for Rafael's arm. "Please don't let anything happen."

Rafael gripped her hand, his jaw tightening. "Nothing will happen. I promise you. I'm right here."

Neri appeared moments later with the emergency bag, followed closely by Alex. "Sir, the car's ready!"

Rafael gathered Ellie into his arms — careful, deliberate — but the sight of the blood on his sleeve nearly broke him. Lea followed, her hand never leaving Ellie's shoulder.

Liam peeked from the corridor, wide-eyed and frightened. "Mama?"

Lea turned, forcing her voice calm. "Stay with Ate Neri, love. We'll be back soon."

He nodded, clutching his stuffed toy tightly.

As they stepped out the door, Rafael's tone was sharp again, focused. "Alex, clear the way. Call ahead — St. Luke's, Dr. Amado. Tell them preterm labor, seven months. We need neonatal on standby."

Lea climbed into the back seat beside Ellie, holding her hand tightly as the car sped through the gates.

"Mom..." Ellie whispered through sobs, her voice small and trembling. "What if something happens to the baby?"

Lea swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. "Nothing will happen, anak. You hear me? Nothing."

Rafael's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale. "You hang in there, Ellie. You're strong. You always have been."

Ellie cried softly. "Dad, I'm sorry—"

"Don't you apologize," Rafael cut in gently but firmly. "You just focus on breathing, alright? Leave the rest to us."

By the time they reached the emergency bay, the staff was already waiting. A gurney was pulled up beside the car, and Rafael carried Ellie out himself, refusing to let anyone else touch her until they were inside.

Lea followed close behind, issuing rapid instructions to the nurses, her voice trembling but clear. "She's seven months pregnant. Fell down the stairs. There's active bleeding—please, please save them both."

As the medical team rushed Ellie through the double doors, she reached back, her fingers brushing against Lea's. "Mom..."

Lea caught her hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm right here, anak. I'm not going anywhere."

The doors swung closed.

Rafael stood there, frozen, his chest heaving, eyes fixed on the spot where his daughter had disappeared. Lea turned toward him slowly — and for the first time since the fall, his composure gave way.

He reached for her, his voice cracking. "Lea..."

She stepped into his arms, holding him tightly, the scent of antiseptic and fear between them.

"She's our daughter," Lea whispered into his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "And that's our grandchild. God, Paeng, please let them be alright."

Rafael closed his eyes, his hand trembling against her back. "They will be," he said quietly — not out of certainty, but out of desperate faith.

For the first time in years, Rafael De Torre — the man who'd faced boardrooms and politics and scandal — stood powerless, praying that the two heartbeats he loved most would make it through the night.